Scars
by Kalira69
Summary: Shiro and Keith finally have a chance to be together again, for the first time since before the Kerberos mission - but Shiro had forgotten how much he's changed since then. How could Keith still want him, like this? (Written for Sheith Month Day 3)


Written for Day 3 of Sheith Month: Scars.

* * *

"All right, all right," Shiro laughed against Keith's mouth, earning himself a sharp, impatient bite, though Keith was grinning too, "let me go get these off, okay?" he asked, sliding one hand over Keith's hip. Keith arched an eyebrow, but let him go after pulling him into one more lingering, heated kiss, rubbing shamelessly against Shiro's body in the process, their erections pressed together through their clothes. He made it very difficult to want to separate from him.

Shiro hummed happily as he slipped into the bathroom. He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck as the lights came on, body buzzing with delight and desire.

He shed his vest and belt, draping both over the counter, then began working off his snug shirt. He realised as he did that no longer wore a uniform he needed to worry about removing, removing pins, and folding aside properly. He caught sight of himself in the mirror before he'd even put the shirt down and stilled, a cold feeling seeping through him.

His hands twitched on the shirt, and the stretchy, concealing fabric slipped through his fingers to a heap on the floor.

"Shiro?" Keith called from the bedroom. "Handsome?"

Shiro flinched.

Keith had spent hours trailing kisses and caresses over every plane and curve of Shiro's body, praising him and driving him crazy and _admiring_ him. Shiro loved it - loved _anything_ Keith did with him, but especially loved the murmur of his voice and the brush of his kisses, loved seeing Keith's eyes grow dark with want, his lips against Shiro's skin as he breathed 'perfect' and 'gorgeous' and-

The Altean lights were bright and quite clear, and the large mirror made it all too easy for Shiro to see his own body. He . . . forgot, sometimes. He didn't often look at himself, and now he spent most of his time dressed in . . . well, the only clothes he had, or his armour, both of which covered. . . _That._

"Shiro?" Keith's voice was closer this time and now tinged with concern.

Shiro flinched again, swallowing down a whine, but he couldn't even drag his eyes away from the ugly, thick scars that striped his body.

"I'll," Shiro's voice hitched, "just be a minute." he called. He heard Keith's step outside the door and winced, waiting.

"Okay, love." Keith said, softer but still carrying that note of concern, and his quiet footsteps retreated again.

Shiro grabbed on to the edge of the counter and forced himself to look down at the sink instead of at himself in the mirror. He took several deep breaths, then made himself slow down, keeping a count of seven as he breathed. Running on autopilot, continuing an already-chosen course, he stripped out of his boots and pants as well, keeping his eyes on the sink and not his skin as he removed everything that had been hiding it.

He pushed upright again, hands tightening on the counter, and refused to let his gaze stray below his face - he'd gotten used to the change in his hair, and the scar across his face, mostly. He nodded stiffly to himself in the mirror. He turned around and paused at the bathroom door, peeking out at Keith.

He was lying on the bed, all pale skin and lean lines, waiting for Shiro. No scars twisted or marred _his_ body. Shiro ran a hand over a spiky curve that had cut into his ribs and nearly up under them, and realised his fingers were shaking. Keith shifted lazily, probably impatient for Shiro to return, and revealed his erection, angled proudly out from his body.

Shiro's own arousal had fled, and even looking at his lover waiting for him, gorgeous and eager, was not bringing it back. He just felt faintly sick, nerves jangling. He put his back against the wall by the doorway for a few more deep, bolstering breaths, then slipped out into the bedroom, turning off the lights as he did.

Keith made a startled noise. "Shiro? What-" He fell silent as Shiro's hand slid over his shoulder. "Handsome, what are you _doing_?" he asked, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"Nothing." Shiro said softly, kissing Keith's neck, sliding his lips up and finding the spot that always made his lover purr and all but melt if paid enough attention. "It's all right. Just let me. . ." he trailed off as he climbed over Keith into the bed, trailing one hand down his chest and belly in a teasing caress and catching his lips with a clumsy kiss.

It smoothed out once they made contact, and Keith moaned, clutching at Shiro's shoulders - his stomach twisted as Keith's fingers skipped past one of the scars on his chest on their way there - and pressing up against him. He relaxed a little and curled his fingers around Keith's cock, a teasingly-light caress at first and then-

" _Unh_ , Shiro-" Keith's voice choked off as Shiro squeezed lightly, but he bucked up with a fluid twist Shiro couldn't quite contain - probably couldn't have even if he'd seen it coming - and pushed against Shiro. He was loving having Keith under his hands - his mouth - again, but . . . Shiro's body wasn't responding any more, either.

He pulled away, just a little, not wanting Keith to press so close, feel him so much, and nuzzled in towards the tender spot on Keith's throat again. He nipped at it, then suckled gently at the warm skin, feeling the sound thrum across his tongue when Keith moaned again, lower this time.

Shiro smiled, nuzzling fondly and giving a quick, not-quite-firm stroke with his left hand. He kept his body angled a little away from his lover's. Keith reached for him and he increased that distance a fraction, his breath catching when Keith's hand came to rest on his hip. It fell away again quickly, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment too soon.

"Shiro." Keith voice was not quite harsh, but it had an edge. Shiro cringed, starting to pull away, Keith's hands sliding over his shoulders - one smoothly-callused fingertip caught on a broad, rippled scar just at the top of his arm. "Shiro, what the _fuck_?"

Shiro pulled back, folding his legs up and tucking himself into the corner of the bunk.

The lights came on, and Shiro closed his eyes, not wanting to see Keith's face when he first saw the mess that had been made of Shiro's body.

"Shiro?" Keith's voice was soft again. "Love, what's wrong?" he asked, and a gentle touch tugged Shiro's left arm off the tops of his knees, away from his face. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, and Shiro startled, eyes snapping open. "Did . . . we remind you of something?"

Shiro looked up at Keith, who had his determined, problem-solving face on.

"No, I- Of course not." Shiro said, shaking his head slightly. "You're . . . perfect."

"What's wrong, then, handsome?" Keith asked, settling on one hip not quite at Shiro's side. "You were just as into it as I was and then you shut yourself away and- In the _dark_ , Shiro?" he questioned, and Shiro swallowed down a sick feeling. "You've never wanted it dark when you're with me." he pointed out gently.

That was true - Keith wasn't shy, at least not when alone with his lover, and Shiro had always been delighted to take advantage of that by loving him with all the lights on, able to see every bit of his body, every reaction. Able to enjoy watching him as he explored Shiro, or-

"The lights are on _now_ ," Shiro rasped, his throat tight with distress, "I'm sure you can see why I didn't. . ."

Keith's fingers brushed his jaw, tilting his head up with a tug that was more a suggestion than anything else. "No, love, I don't. But I want to listen." he said tenderly. "What's going on in your head? What's wrong that you thought hiding in the dark would be better than _talking_ to me if you're upset?" he asked. His eyes darkened to a stormy, troubled shade. "Do you not trust me with it?"

"What? _No!_ " Shiro said, aghast. "Keith, I- I trust you more than anyone."

"Then why are you trying to hide that you're upset from me?" Keith asked, his own distress clear in his voice and his face. "If you don't want _this_ ," he gestured at both of their naked bodies, "right now, _tell me_ , just . . . talk to me, Shiro." he urged.

"I _did_ want-" Shiro broke off. "I _do_ want you." he said firmly.

"You did? Or you _do_?" Keith asked, and he wasn't angry, but-

Shiro cringed miserably.

"I know you wanted me when we came to your bunk, Shiro, just talk to me, please." Keith coaxed. "Did you think I would be upset because something bothered you and you don't want sex any more now?" he asked, and Shiro shook his head, shoulders creeping up. He hadn't, he'd known Keith would stop if he asked, and certainly wouldn't be angry with him over it, but he hadn't . . . wanted Keith to know what was wrong. Hadn't wanted to see Keith- Hadn't wanted Keith to _see_.

"Then what _is_ it?" Keith was frustrated, but his hands were still gentle on Shiro's skin, and he stifled a cry of frustration himself.

"How could _you_ want _me_?" Shiro put it into words instead, sliding his legs down and spreading his arms out a little - just enough to show at least most of the scars on the front of his body to his lover. "Want _this_? I- I'm a wreck of what they _left_ of me, it's broken and scarred and it's- I didn't want you to- to see." he finished weakly, beginning to fold his arms around himself again. "To not want me, or to- to realise how messed up, how _ugly_ I am n-"

Shiro's eyes went wide as one of Keith's hands darted up and covered his mouth; Keith was _glaring_. "You are _not_ ugly and you are-" he clenched his jaw, mouth tight. "Did you even want me tonight, like this, or. . ." he trailed off. "No, I know you _did_ , before, but. . ."

"Yes." Shiro said softly as Keith lowered his hand. Keith's shoulders relaxed a little. "I- I did want you. I always want you." he added with a sad smile. "In . . . all ways. But how could I- How could I think you would want. . ." He looked down at one of the darker reddish scars that wrapped around his right thigh. "You loved my-" his voice faltered.

The scar was hidden away under Keith's paler, unblemished thigh a moment later as Keith swung astride his lap. "Did you think I'd be happy with you hiding away from me? With you not _wanting_ me in return?" he asked, glancing down pointedly and then back up to meet Shiro's eyes. He cringed. "If you don't want sex, or something's wrong, that's fine, Shiro. Feeling that you _don't want me_ and trying to fake it, in the dark, like you're hiding - like _we're_ hiding . . . that hurts much more than. . ." Keith trailed off.

"I'm sorry." Shiro said, crumpling. "I shouldn't have- I didn't want to see what you would- The scars. . ." He looked down at himself, stomach in knots. "I forgot about them," he admitted, "until I saw myself in the mirror. And I couldn't face seeing _you_ see them and- and then not . . . wanting me any more."

"Oh, _Shiro_." Keith breathed. "Shiro, I love _you_." he said, moving closer and gently wrapping his arms around Shiro. "And I still love your body, handsome." he added softly, nuzzling Shiro's ear and kissing his cheek. "I love it even more that you _came back to me_ , that you _survived_ , and I will love you _no matter what_." he said, and Shiro tilted his head away to look at Keith's face. His lips curled at one corner. "But you are also still gorgeous, scars and all, love."

Shiro opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure what to say and- and if it was _anyone else_ he would be unsure if he could believe, but. . . Not Keith. Keith wouldn't lie, not to him, and not. . .

"I'm sorry that you were ever in a position to _get_ them, to get hurt," Keith said, kissing him lightly, barely a feathery caress of contact, trailing his fingertips down Shiro's bicep to the edge of his metal arm, "and I am sorry that they upset you, but I have to tell you, handsome, that you _are_ every bit as handsome as you were before."

Shiro swallowed, hesitantly bringing his arms up around Keith. He settled closer, letting himself be held and nuzzling Shiro's neck, affectionate, but not designed to arouse. Keith's body pressed against him as Shiro hugged his lover close and Shiro could feel his cock, now no more interested in sex than Shiro was.

But Keith cuddled into him and hugged him tight in return, strong thighs squeezing around his waist, and Shiro shuddered a little and clung to him all the harder. Keith hummed softly, soothing, and stroked the back of Shiro's head and down his neck with one hand.

"Come here with me, love." Keith murmured, drawing back and tugging gently to bring Shiro along with him. He moved to follow without thinking, then hesitated.

"I don't know if-" he faltered, then frowned at himself. "I do _want_ you," he said, because it felt important, "but I don't know if I can . . . now, I-"

"Shiro." Keith said firmly, and he looked up, meeting his lover's eyes. "Come here with me. Lie down." he said, tugging at Shiro's hand. "I didn't mean anything more, not now. Just get more comfortable."

Shiro shifted, ducking his head, but followed Keith's lead. He _had_ been comfortable where he was, with Keith cuddled in his lap. His back ached a bit when he moved, though, reminding him it had been a bit of a stiff, awkward position, and he supposed it possibly hadn't been the most comfortable for Keith, either.

"I didn't think you'd want me like that _now_ , love." Keith said as Shiro stretched out beside him. "Just . . . let yourself relax and come down a little, all right?" he suggested, and Shiro took a deep breath, then hesitated and let it out again, nodding.

Keith stroked one hand down his side and kissed his cheek. "Easy." he soothed, nuzzling Shiro's cheek and rubbing his hand back up Shiro's side. "Just breathe, handsome." he murmured, his body reassuringly, solidly familiar against Shiro's own.

"I," Shiro paused, "I . . . might want. Later." he admitted, eyeing Keith from beneath his lashes. "If that's. . ." he trailed off meaningfully.

"I'll want you." Keith said, sliding onto his back and giving Shiro a warm smile. "If that's what you want, tell me. I promise; I'll want you, handsome." His voice was warm, too, with a wavering undercurrent of fond laughter.

"I'm not sure, though. If- How. It'll work for me." Shiro said, and winced at the brokenness of his own words. The brokenness of _himself_ , now. "If it will. If I _can_. Is that okay?" he asked tentatively.

"Shiro, love, if you never wanted to have sex with me again I- Well," Keith's lips quirked, "I would be sad, but it would be a very tiny portion of sad because _I still have you_. I love you, handsome. You're here with me. Nothing-" his voice faltered, "nothing else matters so much as that."

Shiro was shocked to realise there were tears in Keith's eyes. He looked away, and Shiro caught his face and gently tugged him back, brushing a feathery kiss over each of his eyelids.

Keith swallowed, lashes fluttering. "I missed you." he said simply. "I was afraid. If you think there's _anything_ that could make me any less than _ecstatic_ to have you with me again, Shiro. . ."

"I-" Shiro's throat closed up. "I love you." he said simply, because it encompassed everything that he wanted to say and couldn't force out or couldn't find the words for.

Keith smiled, his eyes still damp, and nuzzled against Shiro's cheek again, his lean body solid and warm and comfortable where he was tucked almost protectively close along Shiro's side.

* * *

Shiro's issues about his scars and his appearance in general obviously run deeper than simply 'what will Keith think' or whether Keith still finds him attractive, but that is what caused the specific distress spiral Shiro hit tonight - and at least it's a start. Perhaps now he'll talk to Keith a little more in general, and Keith can help him work on accepting himself again.


End file.
